


I Want You to Want Me

by PerWitchery



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Age Difference, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Drama, Eventual Smut, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Fluff, Harry Potter Epilogue What Epilogue | EWE, Hogwarts Eighth Year, Humor, Loss of Virginity, No Past Remus Lupin/Nymphadora Tonks, Not Epilogue Compliant, Older Man/Younger Woman, Romance, Sexual Tension, Slow Burn, Teacher-Student Relationship
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-06
Updated: 2021-03-06
Packaged: 2021-03-12 15:54:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,192
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29886915
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PerWitchery/pseuds/PerWitchery
Summary: After the war, Hermione Granger returns to Hogwarts to complete her education. What she didn't expect was to find herself entangled in a bet of seduction. The target? Her returning Defense Against the Dark Arts Professor: The unsuspecting Remus Lupin.
Relationships: Hermione Granger & Remus Lupin, Hermione Granger/Remus Lupin
Comments: 7
Kudos: 23





	I Want You to Want Me

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! Welcome to my first ever attempt at a Harry Potter fanfic! Lord have mercy on my soul.
> 
> I love this pairing, I hope you enjoy and I am very, very eager to hear everyone's thoughts. Also, I should mention that my head cannon for Remus Lupin will always and forever be as he is in the movies, David Thewlis. That's how I picture him when writing this, and I think if you allow his soft-spoken demeanor and goofy charm into the mind's eye, you'll fall for him too! I look forward to seeing you all in the next chapter. This author is hungry, please feed her with comments. Enjoy!

Hermione Granger was seated on one of the many benches that littered Platform Nine and Three Quarters, waiting patiently for the arrival of the Hogwarts Express. It was the first of September, and it was also the first time since she had begun attending Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry that Hermione would be starting the school year without the other two thirds of the Golden Trio.

It was the first term back after the end of the Second Wizarding War, and after the long summer months of rebuilding and constructing, the decision had been made to welcome back students to Hogwarts. It seemed a return to normalcy - so to speak - was crucial for public morale, and the sooner the better.

Due to the unorthodox manner in which the last school year had been carried out - and due to a number of students being absent entirely - all previous seventh years were welcomed back to formally complete their education by attending a temporary eighth year, though it was not mandatory.

While there had never been any question in Hermione’s mind on what she was going to do, Ron Weasely had taken the word “optional” to heart, and eagerly threw himself into his Auror training, proudly claiming that he would never look at another standardized test again. Harry Potter had been the only one of them to seem torn on what to do. In the end, while Hogwarts would always be a second home to him, the memories that the institution’s stone walls held proved too painful to bear, and it was time for him to move on. He needed to start finding his own way in the Wizarding World, no longer as The Boy Who Lived, but as Harry Potter. Hermione sympathized with him, understanding and supporting his decision entirely, no matter how much her friends’ absence made her heart ache. And so the two boys - young men now - had gone on to become Aurors together, leaving Hermione to be the sole returning student of their triad.

It was moments like this one, as she was surrounded by her luggage and listening to the excited chatter of new and returning students alike, when their absence was especially hard and overwhelming.

Hermione stroked the wild fur of Crookshanks as he laid loyally by her side on the bench. It would be a while before the train pulled in, as Hermione had made sure to arrive early, as always. She let her mind wander to the events of the summer, the good … and the not so good. She was fortunate enough to have her parents back in her life, as she had travelled to Australia and returned their memories as soon as she was able. Hermione knew that she had missed them dearly, but she hadn’t realized just how much until she had gotten them back.

When Hermione wasn’t at home enjoying peaceful evenings with her parents, she was at the Burrow, enjoying the company of her friends and helping out Molly Weasley whenever she could. The family was still hurting from Fred’s death, but they all knew that the late twin would want to be remembered with smiles and laughter rather than tears and mourning.

Hermione’s summer fling with Ron had turned out to be just that, much to the shock of everyone around them. The break up hadn’t been the prettiest, and both of them had said things that they didn’t mean in the heat of the moment. They spent an entire night one evening after the fallout talking with one another and reconciling, coming to the conclusion that they were better off as friends. In the end, their bond ended up being stronger than before and all had been forgiven. Though Hermione would be lying to herself if some of the remarks Ron had said didn’t keep her up on the sleepless nights that still plagued her from time to time. Mostly because they had a seed of truth to them, and Hermione knew it, even after Ron had taken the words back.

“You’re a prude, ‘Mione, and no one’s ever gonna be good enough for you! How could they, when you’re so far up your own arse in fantasies to see what’s right in front of you!”

Ouch. Hook, line and sinker on that one. Hermione grit her teeth at the memory. So what if she had standards? Was it truly a crime to want to build a stronger emotional connection before taking things further on a physical level? And so what if she didn’t constitute last night’s quidditch scores as mentally stimulating conversation, sue her! Truth be told, she would rather listen to her parents’ in-depth lesson on molar extraction than hear the stats of the Chudley Cannons - again.

“She seems lost in thought, Professor. But I’m sure she’ll be happy to see us.” An airy voice shook Hermione from her thoughts and she looked over to see Luna Lovegood approaching her with a much taller man in tow. Hermione blinked a couple of times before her mind registered the appearance of Remus Lupin. She certainly hadn’t been expecting to see him, it had been months since they had last spoken. In fact, it had probably been during the tense moments immediately following the final battle at Hogwarts. So much had been going on at the time that she couldn’t exactly remember what their conversation entailed. She noted that he looked much better now that he wasn’t caked in blood and his clothing wasn’t all but in tatters. She never knew that he had any intention of returning to Hogwarts as a member of its staff once more.

Hermione stood and greeted the pair warmly.

“Luna, and Professor Lupin! How wonderful to see both of you again!” She wrapped the petite blonde in a tight embrace and hesitated only a moment before repeating the same gesture with Remus, albeit not as tightly. She couldn’t remember ever having hugged him before, and she wasn’t sure if such a greeting was appropriate given the return of their current positions, but anything else didn’t seem right in light of all they had been through together with The Order. Remus reciprocated the embrace without hesitation, gently patting her back.

“Hermione, so good to see you,” He said as he pulled back and smiled down at her, eyes twinkling. He rested a comforting hand on her shoulder. “Harry told me all about you and your parents this summer. I’m so happy to hear you’ve gotten your family back.”

Hermione returned his contagious smile with ease. “Thank you, Professor. I’m really lucky with how everything turned out. So you’re returning to Hogwarts?”

As Remus was about to reply, Luna cut in.

“Headmistress McGonagall pestered Moony all summer with letters on resuming his post as the Defense Against the Dark Arts Professor, wouldn’t take no for an answer. Even sent him a strongly worded Howler at one point.” She answered Hermione’s question, unwittingly cutting the older man off. Remus didn’t seem to mind, however. He didn’t even bat a lash at the informal use of his childhood nickname.

“I knew telling Minerva ‘no’ was impossible, but I had to give it the old college try,” He shrugged good-naturedly. 

Hermione’s mood and outlook of the school year improved significantly. So much of this was going to be uncharted territory for her, and the entire school system for that matter, that another friendly and familiar face was a welcomed development. She also knew Remus to be an extremely self-isolating and self-deprecating man, and she took silent joy in seeing him taking care of himself, and smiling again - an expression she realized she hadn’t seen on the werewolf’s face in a long while, not since before Sirius’s death at any rate.

“Excuse me, Hermione, Professor, but I see some Nargles hanging around that group of First Years, and I must ask to see the contents of their pockets.” Luna walked away from them without another word, deeming an explanation obvious and unnecessary. The two watched her go in only a moment of confusion, before knowing better than to try to make sense of her words.

“Well we make quite the welcoming committee, don’t we? Loony and Moony,” Remus rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly. 

“I couldn’t have picked a better one myself. You have no idea how happy I am to have you back as the DADA Professor.”

“About that, I was actually just discussing this semester’s syllabus with Miss Lovegood, and I realize the unique position you’ve found yourself in …”

“I was under the impression that I was just going to attend all of the Seventh Year courses,” Hermione said, puzzled.

“Mm, that might work were you any other student. But I intend to challenge you, without frying the brains of the Seventh Years in the process,” Remus surmised. Hermione smirked at his subtle compliment. “I’ll be assigning you a research paper to be handed in at the end of the year.”

As if any project Hermione was assigned would take her that long. “And what about the time block designated for your class?”

“Use it to work on my project, or to study for your N.E.W.Ts. Or rest that overactive mind of yours for once, I don’t care,” He winked, much to Hermione’s delight. “I’m still working out the details, so come and see me during my office hours after your first day. I look forward to seeing your work, Miss Granger.” He emphasized the title teasingly, not having said it since she was thirteen and he was her teacher the first time around.

In the distance, the blow of a train whistle could be heard - the telltale sound of the rapidly approaching Hogwarts Express.

“Now if you’ll excuse me, I need to go and purchase myself some Honeydukes chocolate from that stall over there,” Remus picked up his lone suitcase. “The Express’s trolley is always cleaned out by the time it comes ‘round to me.” With one last playful smile cast her way, Remus walked off and Hermione began to gather her belongings.

Once she had collected herself, Crookshanks promptly hopped into Hermione’s outstretched arms and she approached the platform. She loved watching the massive train approach and enter into the station, it was as if Hermione was seeing it for the first time all over again.

A flurried screech somehow managed to drown out the bellowing whistle, and Hermione turned toward the commotion. Ginny Weasley looked like a flaming banshee as she sprinted toward the platform, fiery locks whipping around her. George Weasley was not far behind, juggling the rest of the luggage that Ginny couldn’t carry as he tried desperately to keep up with his frenzied sister. The youngest Weasley’s eyes almost instantaneously zeroed in on Hermione, and she ran her way over to her friend’s side. 

“Hermione! Thank Merlin!” Ginny skidded to a halt, almost crashing into Hermione in the process. Numerous train cars passed them by and an echoing screech sounded throughout the tunnel as the Express came to an eventual halt. “Look, George, we made it! I told you we would! … George?” Ginny turned around, puzzled when she got no response. The twin in question was collapsed on the ground in an exhausted heap, too busy choking in relieved gasps to reply.

Ginny rolled her eyes, “Oh, don’t be so dramatic, George. I had it under control the entire time.”

In what seemed like no time at all, the students began boarding the Hogwarts Express and unloading their baggage, making themselves at home and settling in for the long train ride to Hogwarts. George hugged his sister and Hermione goodbye, wishing them both luck on their final year. The pair was soon accompanied by Luna, who reassured them that all had gone over well with the Nargle debacle. 

“ - So Mum says, ‘We have time! We have to go to Charlie’s favorite restaurant since he’s never in London.’ Which is in the opposite direction of the station mind you!” Ginny explained as the three selected a compartment and stored their bags overhead. Hermione giggled at her friend’s words. “I’m the last Weasley starting her last year at Hogwarts! So of course the day has to be about Charlie!”

“Were you able to say goodbye to Harry?” Luna’s soothing voice seemed to placate Ginny's irritation, and Hermione sent her a silent ‘thank you’ for calming down their redheaded friend.

“We had a nice, long dinner together last night,” Ginny sighed dreamily. “He knew he was going to have to leave early for Auror training this morning, so he planned the date in advance. Ugh, this is only making me miss him more, let’s change the subject. So Miss Eighth Year, how does it feel being the oldest one in the castle after McGonagall? Get any special privileges?”

Hermione rolled her eyes at Ginny’s playful remark. “Not really. I believe my curfew is a little later than everyone’s, but not by much. The biggest difference is that I’ll be rooming in the East Tower, rather than Gryffindor’s.”

Ginny let her eyes go wide and clutched onto Luna’s arm next to her. “Oohh, her own tower! Sit up straight Luna, we’re in the presence of a Princess!”

“Actually, she’ll be sharing the East Wing with Draco. Though it seems wrong to call him a Prince. A jester perhaps?” Luna stated matter-of-factly.

The two Gryffindors fell silent at the Ravenclaw’s information. “Oh. Did you two not know that Draco decided to return as well?”

The teasing look had gone from Ginny as she cast a sympathetic look at Hermione, who was sinking lower and lower into the leather upholstery. 

“You have got to be kidding me. I thought Draco finished his seventh year?” Hermione whined.

Luna shrugged, only knowing what The Daily Prophet and The Quibbler reported on. Neither news source had been able to deduce exactly why the Malfoy heir had decided to return to Hogwarts as an Eighth Year.

“I think I’m going to be ill,” Hermione mumbled as she felt the color drain from her face. She knew that Draco was no longer ‘evil’ in the literal sense of the word, but he was still a massive prat. The only thing keeping her sane in the past from his bullying antics was the separation of their houses and therefore their dormitories, a factor that would no longer be in play it seemed. Hermione excused herself as she got up to go to the loo. A douse of icy cold water to her face was just what she needed in order to regroup her senses. Sharing a dormitory with Draco Malfoy, what could possibly go wrong?

Shutting the small room’s door behind her, Hermione wrenched the faucet on and splashed her cheeks. She studied her features long and hard in the mirror, warding away images of the teeth growing spell incident. At eighteen, and on the cusp of turning nineteen, Hermione had lost all of her baby fat that she once carried. This was in part due to the unhealthy amount of weight that she had lost while on the run last year. But after gaining back the pounds and restoring herself to health, the result was a slender neck and tender jawline, accompanied with high cheekbones that were in a perpetual state of a light flush, and dusted with a light sprinkling of freckles. She was a schoolgirl no longer, and she found herself staring into the lash-y eyes of a young woman. So why did she still feel like a bumbling fool the majority of the time?

Her mousey brown hair had kept its wild curls, and so she maintained the tresses by keeping it cut to a manageable shoulder length. Her mother and her had made a trip to the salon not long ago, where she had talked Hermione into getting highlights. The final look was quite striking, if she did say so herself.

With a newfound resolve, Hermione decided that this was going to be a good year, no matter what life decided to throw at her. She was instrumental in defeating the Dark Lord for Merlin’s sake! And all the while handling boys, puberty and school, coming out of it all virtually unscathed. Nothing was going to get in her way, certainly not a sniveling weasel like Draco Malfoy.

Hermione opened the restroom’s door a bit too fast as it collided with an unsuspecting body making their way down the hall, falling to the floor with a ‘thump!’ in an ungraceful sprawl.

“Ah! Watch it, would you? Moron!”

“I’m so sorry, I didn’t -!” Hermione’s apology flew from her mind as she took in the unmistakable head of platinum blond hair. Speak of the devil.

“Oh. It’s you. Probably wasn’t an accident then,” Draco Malfoy sneered as he collected himself, standing back up.

“Actually, it was. Not everyone is as immature as you, Draco,” Hermione crossed her arms. She hadn’t been expecting her patience to be tested this early on. She figured she would at least have the train ride to steel herself before facing the unfortunate lodging situation. “What do you think you’re doing, coming back here?” Her Gryffindor courage bubbled up, knowing that he didn’t owe her an explanation, but feeling the need to demand one regardless.

“Not that it’s any business of yours, Granger, but I was unable to take my N.E.W.Ts,” Though he kept his arms composed and at his sides, Hermione noticed the fidgeting of his fingers. The twitch was one of self-consciousness and he didn’t meet her gaze. “Graduation was cut short due to … well, you know. And I didn’t want to stay at home any longer.” He explained in a huff.

So, it was a personal decision then. Probably the first one that he had made for himself in his life, without being swayed by the motives of his aristocratic parents or a dark, underground society. Though she would never voice it aloud, Hermione had to give him credit.

“So I take it you know about the eighth year arrangements then?”

Draco tsk'd. “Of course I know! I just finished talking with that werewolf about his stupid assignment. I was hoping for the seventh year lessons and the easy O.”

Hermione was slightly disappointed to learn that Draco was also being given the year long research project. She thought she had been alone in that regard and stood out due to her grades. Though it was no secret that Draco also received exemplary marks. 

“Not just that, I was talking about the … oh, never mind.” The less she spoke of it, the less she had to think about the reality of the situation. Draco looked at her, puzzled, not following her train of thought. His eyes then lit up in realization and Hermione had never seen a smirk so roguish. 

“I see, Granger, you’re talking about the sleeping arrangements, aren’t you?” He resembled a snake more than a wizard in that moment. “Got your knickers in a twist? Being only a few feet away from my chambers rather than a few floors?”

Hermione was quick to raise her hand, extending a warning pointer at his smug face. “If you even think about coming near my door - ”

“Oh come off it, Granger, I wouldn’t dream of it!” Draco rolled his eyes. “And even if I did, everyone knows you’re a right prude who puts bloody nuns to shame!”

There was that word again! Hermione was sick of these misogynistic labels and the self-righteous men who spoke them! She had been called a ‘prude’ two times too many.

“Now you listen here, Malfoy!” She jabbed a none-too-gentle finger into the prat’s chest. “The only thing a witch who doesn’t throw herself onto you can be accused of being, is a witch with taste! I could be a goddamn siren if I so chose!”

“Then why isn’t that red-headed terror of yours still in the picture?” Draco shot back easily.

“What happened between Ronald and I is no business of yours! It has nothing to do with the fact at hand!”

“Which is?”

Hermione had been subconsciously advancing on Draco, repeatedly poking his chest with each punctuated word, and driving him backward toward the wall. Draco had allowed himself to be pushed back, but he was by no means retreating. His back finally hit up against the wall, a dead end, with nowhere to escape from the irate witch, eyes blazing with fury. Her eyebrows raised at the condescending-laden tone in his question. Without fully registering the words escaping her, she exploded.

“That I can have any man I want, whenever I want!” She damn near shouted. 

Draco didn’t respond immediately, choosing to silently watch the panting witch as she collected herself, the spark of rage still present in her glare.

“There’s the Gryffindor that socked me,” Draco said, more to himself than to Hermione. She arched a questioning brow. “That sounded like a challenge, Granger.”

“I, uh - a what?” Hermione stuttered, taken aback.

Without saying another word, Draco grabbed Hermione’s shoulders and turned her around. He quickly steered her toward a compartment door not too far away from the restroom. It must have been where he was sitting, and where he was headed back to before he had literally run into Hermione. The witch was still too confused to protest or resist his direction. She watched quietly as he slid the door shut behind him.

“And here I thought that this year was going to be such a bore,” Draco made himself comfortable, sitting down and folding his hands behind his head, propping his feet up on the cushions across from him. Hermione continued to stand there, awkwardly. “I propose a bet.” He announced finally after situating himself.

“Again, I repeat, ‘a what?’”

“Let’s put that proclamation of yours to the test.”

What was the imbecile prattling on about now? She could admit, she had gotten a little carried away. A simple case of some pent-up, misplaced anger. 

“Oh … that wasn’t a proclamation, that was just…” Hermione wracked her brain for eloquent ways to backtrack.

“Just… empty words?” Draco finished for her, smirking when he noticed her bristle. “So you really do have a stick so far up your arse that it can be seen in your throat?”

“You’re revolting, Draco!” 

“I’ve been called worse,” He shrugged her off. “Then prove me wrong, Granger. I can make it worth your while.”

“What on earth are you going on about?”

He motioned for her to sit on the bench across from him. Hermione took a moment to consider it, and against her better judgment, she took a seat, arms still crossed and back stiff as a board, ready to make a hasty retreat or kick Draco in the balls if the situation called for it.

“I bet you, from now until Christmas break, that you couldn’t successfully seduce anyone.”

Her eyebrow twitched in irritation at his words. “Is that so?”

Actually no, it wasn’t so and Draco knew it. He could immediately name ten seventh and sixth year boys that were chomping at the bit to snag a date with Hermione Granger. If not for her legendary book-smart prowess, then for her title as a member of the Golden Trio. Their superficiality was downright sickening, and he knew that Hermione thought so too, but she’d do it just to prove him wrong. He’d have to switch tactics.

“Anyone of my choosing that is,” He noticed the way that her eyes narrowed suspiciously at him. “Hey, for a so-called ‘siren’,” He raised his hands in air quotes. “Anyone I choose should be no problem.”

“And why would I even want to consider taking part in this barbaric proposition of yours?”

“Like I said, I can make it worth your while. How does special access to the Malfoy Manor library and archives sound?” He noticed her perk up a bit at his offer, so he continued to press. “A rare selection of literature and documents, some of which are not even found at Hogwarts or the Ministry. No one outside of the Malfoy family has ever been permitted entry, much less a mu-”

Hermione’s glare cut him off.

“...A muggle-born. So what do you say, Granger? Your looks for my books?”

Her smirk at Draco’s clever choice of words was a good sign, if he had anything to go off of. Hermione finally seemed to let her guard down as she mulled over his offer, leaning back against her seat.

“Let’s say I were to consider this idiotic bet, how would you define a ‘successful seduction’? I won’t be whoring myself out simply for your shits and giggles, Malfoy.” Hermione said, never one to overlook the details.

Draco sat forward, elbows rested on his knees. “There’s a pendant, a … family heirloom of sorts, I’d have to have it owl’d to me. Essentially it is enchanted so that the wearer, after performing an incantation, would have the private information of knowing whether or not the subject of their choosing is infatuated with them.”

“‘Infatuated’?” Hermione had to admit, as a denizen of the Wizarding World, that even this seemed to be a bit far-fetched. Did such an artifact really exist?

“More than just a passing fancy, or a schoolyard crush. And on the opposite end of that spectrum, more than lust. To put it simply; they want you.”

Hermione felt her cheeks blazing. “Why would you own such a thing?”

Draco shrugged, smiling at her wolfishly. “Makes stuffy dinner parties more interesting, to say the least.”

Hermione let her gaze wander over to the passing terrain outside of the train window. On the one hand, this was completely stupid and would require all the more interaction with Draco. It was also her final year of schooling and she had tests to prepare for, tests that would decide her career path and the shape of her future for the rest of her life. But on the other hand…

In all honesty, Hermione knew this school year was going to be a breeze, looming N.E.W.Ts or not, it always was. And the past seven years had shaped her into somewhat of an adrenaline junky. The thought of a year passing without something more than just her grades at stake left Hermione feeling … empty. And wanting.

Though she didn’t enjoy the thought of her life constantly being on the line, the adventure in the end had always been worth it. And Draco’s bet was hardly life-threatening, and he was pushing her to venture into a portion of her life that she had hardly breached the surface of. Not to mention the glorious satisfaction she'd receive when she proved him wrong. And that library... 

Hermione squared her shoulders as she turned back to face the blond.

“You’re on,” She extended her hand.

Grinning, Draco accepted it. But before Hermione allowed him to release her grip, she leaned in. “But I will require monthly reading material from your oh-so exclusive library, subjects of my choosing. Just to keep me interested.”

Draco rolled his eyes. “Fine.”

“So,” Hermione began, sitting back against her seat once more. “Who’s the sorry sod that has to play victim to my wiles?” Merlin, what had she gotten herself into?

Draco tapped his forefinger repeatedly on his lips as he wracked his brain. That was the question of the hour, wasn’t it?

A couple of gentle raps on the compartment door drew the two students out of their musings. They turned to see Remus Lupin sliding open the door once he had gotten their attention.

“Mr. Malfoy, I forgot to mention,” The professor spoke, leaning his head slightly into the compartment. “You’ll need to see me during my office hours tomorrow after your classes and have your thesis ready to propose.” Remus turned his head to the witch across from him and smiled. “Hermione,” He greeted her politely before ducking back out, closing the door behind him and disappearing from view.

Almost as if rehearsed, Draco and Hermione simultaneously turned to look at each other, one with a splitting grin and the other with a growing sense of dread.

“No.” Hermione said immediately before a single breath could escape Draco.

“Oh, yes.”

“No, no, no!”

“Yes, yes, yes!”

“Draco,” Hermione stressed his first name, putting as much pleading emphasis as possible into the two syllables. “Remus is a trusted friend. Not to mention the moral taboo of him being our teacher!”

“We’re not even going to be sitting in during his class this year and we have one project due for the guy. Besides, consider yourself lucky I’m choosing someone who you’ve got a head start with. Notice how I’m ‘Mr. Malfoy’ and you’re ‘Hermione’?”

“I won’t do it,” She stated resolutely. “Not with him, I would never use him like that.”

“You act like you’ve never used an Obliviate before.” Draco scoffed.

Hermione’s entire form flinched. That bastard. His remark was a low blow, even for scum like him

“Look,” Draco said when he got no response. “You wouldn’t be using him, not really.”

“He could lose his job because of me!”

“You’re of age, you shouldn’t even technically be a student anymore and you’re completing one assignment of his to be handed in at the end of the year. A slightly less-than-platonic relationship between the two of you is hardly grounds for his termination.”

“It’s much more than that and you know it, Malfoy!”

The tension between them could be cut with a knife as they glared at one another, neither backing down.

“No one said this would be easy, Granger. It only makes sense to give you the same amount of risk that I face with letting in an outsider into the manor’s archives. I’m sure Moony would understand your reasons.” Draco’s use of his professor’s nickname was demeaning. A bolt of protective instinct shot through Hermione.

“Don’t call him that.” Hermione defended. She was well-aware of his and his family’s stance on werewolves’ place in wizarding society, even if Draco’s prejudice had eased to a lesser degree with time.

“Whatever,” Draco bit. “I knew this was gonna be a waste of time with you, and here I was looking forward to the show. Perhaps,” He mused more to himself. “Astoria would be interested. At least she has a few notches in her broomstick, she’d have Lupin eating out of the palm of her hand for sure.”

“Absolutely not,” Hermione stood from her seat. “You keep your fangirl’s claws away from him!”

“So what are you gonna do about it?” He bit back.

Instead of answering him, Hermione stormed out, slamming the compartment door behind her with one goal in mind. She didn’t miss the knowing smirk on Draco’s face as he watched her go. 

Hermione was well-aware of the term ‘reverse psychology’ and even owned a few books dedicated to the subject. Being well versed in a psychological practice, however, didn’t necessarily make one immune to it.

She marched down the train’s halls in the direction that Remus had gone, looking through the compartment panes as she went. Finally she found him, situated in the second to last compartment of the train car. He sat alone, legs crossed and shabby robe taken off and laid out across the length of the bench next to him. A pair of thin wire-framed glasses that Hermione had never seen before was perched on his nose, his attention totally encapsulated by the document on his lap as he scribbled his quill along the page. The sun glared in through the window, highlighting his light brown hair and painting a serene picture.

Hermione gulped.

Though she said nothing and made no move to enter, Remus seemed to sense her presence and shifted his attention, warm recognition coloring his features. He beckoned her in and Hermione hesitantly followed suit.

“Nice to see you again, Hermione, though I’m not surprised,” He put his pen and parchment to the side, folding his hands in his lap. “I was wondering how long you’d be able to handle Mr. Malfoy’s company. Sit down, please.” He motioned for her to take the seat across from him when it became apparent that she wasn’t going to do so on her own.

She smiled at him timidly, praying that he wasn’t picking up on her nerves.

There was no way he didn’t sense something was up, even without the super-sensory abilities that his lycanthropy provided, Remus was still one of the most intuitive people that Hermione knew.

“Remus - Professor - uh, Lupin,” Bugger, this stupid bet was muddying the proper title waters that were already murky to begin with.

Remus chuckled, not seeming to be off-put with Hermione’s stuttering. “Remus is fine,” He took off his glasses. “I hope the glasses didn’t throw you off. It was only a matter of time, I’m afraid, until my poor eyesight outweighed the need to seem young and hip.”

His lopsided grin did nothing to ease the butterflies that were currently massacring Hermione’s insides. His grin slowly faded into a look of mild concern when Hermione continued to say nothing, and struggled to meet his eyes.

“Everything alright, Hermione? Draco isn’t bothering you, is he?”

More than he knew. It was obvious that Remus cared for her, which made the position she was put into all the more difficult. She didn’t want to hurt him, but she’d be damned if she sat back and watched a Slytherin hussy take advantage of him, not that she doubted that he could hold his own.

“No, no. There was something I needed to speak to you about,” Hermione began, searching for the words. If she was going to see this through, then she was going to have to spend a lot more time with Remus. “It’s about your assignment actually. I wanted to run by a different arrangement … of sorts … with you…”

The older wizard arched a brow. “Oh? What exactly did you have in mind?”

Merlin, this was exactly like a scene that could be found in Witch’s Weekly. Hermione willed away that flush that threatened to creep up the column of her throat.

“It’s just … you know that Defense Against the Dark Arts is one of my favorite subjects,” She fibbed, “And I feel that I could be doing a lot more than just one paper. Like … helping you grade the homework of the younger years?”

Silence followed her proposition and Hermione was unable to read the expression on Remus’s face. She could feel a single bead of sweat drip down the back of her neck. He was still and his arms were crossed.

“Absolutely not,” He said sternly. Hermione felt her heart skip a beat as she felt the tinges of embarrassment begin to creep in. She did not have a Plan B. “You might be determined to run yourself ragged,” He continued. “But I have no plans to do so.” The return of his kind smile brought with it waves of relief for Hermione, but also confusion.

“I will not have you undertaking both workloads, but I like your idea. So instead of your year long assignment, you can spend Monday and Wednesday evenings with me in my office, grading essays. I may also throw in the occasional Sunday afternoon around midterms and finals, to compensate for the new free period you’ll have during the week, but also so you can keep your Friday and Saturday evenings. This is your final year at Hogwarts after all and you are expected to enjoy it. Fair enough?”

Hermione nodded eagerly, “More than generous, Professor.”

“Don’t look so happy, Miss Granger,” Remus said. “I’m known to be stricter with my colleagues than I am with my students. I expect to hear your reasonings for the grades you give the older essays.” He winked.

A distant train whistle interrupted the moment.

“Sounds like we’ll be arriving soon,” He replaced his glasses and picked up his papers. “I’m afraid I have to finish these syllabi, or McGonagall will have my head. She’s ten times more terrifying in person than she is via Howler.”

“Yes, of course,” Hermione rose and made her way over to the door. “Thank you, Professor. I look forward to working with you.”

“It’s Remus, Hermione,” He waved one last time before returning to his work.

Hermione shut the door and quickly leaned back against the wooden paneling directly adjacent to it, out of view from Remus. How could one conversation be this exhausting? She closed her eyes in an attempt to calm the beating of her heart.

She only had a moment’s peace before the organ leapt up into her throat again as someone tackled her.

“There you are!” Ginny exclaimed. “I’ve been looking everywhere for you! Come on, we’ll be there soon.” She pulled Hermione along, oblivious to the shaky steps the latter was taking. “The ride seemed to really fly by this year, and I’m starting to feel anxious but I don't know why! You know what I mean?” Ginny looked at her friend expectantly.

Hermione sighed wearily. “You have no idea.”


End file.
